I have been agonizing for months. And for some reason, today, I decided that I either need to man up (forgive the somewhat gender-oppressive expression) or get this out of my system.
So read this is you want, or don't at all. It's okay either way.
I don't even know where to begin. Please realize how difficult this is for me, and my intention is not to blame or accuse you of anything. You see, I came to an epiphany today. I realized that I was being selfish. Rightfully so, in some ways (I still don't know why you had to lie to me) but in other ways, what happened is what I had expected to happen all along and now that I reflect further, I'm somewhat surprised it didn't happen sooner.
I was hurt, yes. Very much so. In many ways, however, I wish I would have reacted better. I was (am?) still your friend? I don't know. It's been very hard to tell with you. I tried to keep in contact as much as possible, but your increasing bouts of silence (just poof!) not only made that difficult, but scared the shit out of me.
I cared about you. I will admit it. I have never felt about another person the way I felt about you. It delighted me and confused me in many ways (as often happens when you start to feel differently about a friend). I was afraid to be rejected. And...well...nut up or shut up.
So then came the really confusing part. What I told you, I wasn't lying. I might not have been fantastic at showing it, as convoluted and minimal my experience at relationships has been. Not to mention, it was prettymuch doomed from the start. I see that now. Every force in the world, it seemed, was working against us. But there was a short time when I truly thought that we could make it through anything if we tried.
I saw something special, I thought. But I failed to take into account that people do not - nor are they required to - feel the same way each other. Equivalent exchange is an imperfect principal.
I only wish that you had told me, instead of pretending (for what? To spare my feelings? Was it entertaining?). Okay, maybe you got involved with someone else. I can accept that. I would understand, as long as you're honest. But the story you fed me tasted like shit, to be blunt. Then again, just poof. Nothing.
With, what seemed to me, very clear signals that anything we had was over. Okay. I can take a hint. I left you alone and figured that you had my email if you wanted to contact me. And I've spent half a year both hoping you would and dreading it. But I guess it's clear at this point, if I want any closure to this gaping fuck of a wound in my chest. I'm going to have to get this out.
I don't expect a reply to this, nor should you feel obligated to respond. I don't even know if you'll ever read it. I just needed to say this. I hope you understand that I'm just trying to fix my fucking head here a bit and I can't do that until I clear the air. Because as your friend, I felt terrible. You were gone again. And what I should have been was a friendly ear to you, but I was so wrapped up in my hurt, confused emotions that I forgot to keep being your friend. Which is what I should have been all along.
So I guess I need to say I'm sorry - that you felt you couldn't be honest with me, or that I let my hurt feelings cloud my thinking. That I expected so much from you that I didn't have any right to expect. I never meant to stop being your friend. But if that's what you want, that's fine. If I don't hear from you, I promise I'll fuck off for good. I'd just like to know, definitively, so I can stop feeling like such a dickface about this.
I admit my faults (blame me for what you will, I deserve it), and you have your's too. I had hoped we could at least be friends. Have some dark laughs about the shit-spattered underbelly of the world. Someone to level with. But I also chose to give you my heart. It's okay if you don't want it. But there's no lying to myself that you still very clearly have it. All this not knowing.
So if there's some part of you out there that still cares enough to venture this way at some point, kindly break it proper and give it back.
(*No, I am not writing to Sam Winchester.)